


(Not A) Devil Within

by Antiquity



Category: Batman (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cybernetics, Hopeful Ending, Jargon, M/M, Not as Heavy as the Tags Make it Seem, Temporary Character Death, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9561032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiquity/pseuds/Antiquity
Summary: “As you can see, we have experienced...an unexpected glitch with Weapon B Zero One, designation: Nightwing. One point four hours ago it suddenly became extremely agitated and exceptionally aggressive in its Holding Capsule for no apparent reason – technicians have examined the area and are certain no physical stimulus was present. When it broke out one hour later, it took eight Centurions point four hours to subdue it and the Hold Area has suffered considerable damage. The situation shows no sign of resolving itself.”“An understatement, Proconsul,” a Consul said as the muted thuds continued to echo through the chrome and steel dome of the Launch Bay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I...have no idea where this came from. I think it was a plot bunny from a holiday which then gathered dust on my hard drive for several months. Hopefully it's not as heavy or as weird as the tags make it out to be! Adayofjoy said she liked it, and since she's (brilliant) not a huge sci-fi fan, here it is. As for the jargon at the end... *shrugs and nervously twiddles thumbs*
> 
> I hope someone enjoys it anyway :)

The Consuls strode down the corridor with impatience ill-suiting their solemn dignity, heavy crimson robes billowing behind them.

“This is most irregular,” one said to the other, who nodded in disapproval.

“Proconsul Marius, an explanation,” one demanded as they swept into the Launch Bay, ignoring the shout of acclamation that rose up and the salutes they were offered.

“Consuls!” Proconsul Marius had the hunted look of a small mammal as he turned to face them, fist slamming onto his chest. “I did not know we would have the honour of your presence –”

“Proconsul, you will explain this situation immediately or you will submit yourself for reconditioning.”

“Yes, Consul,” he said hoarsely, and gestured helplessly to the scene behind him. “As you can see, we have experienced...an unexpected glitch with Weapon B Zero One, designation: Nightwing. One point four hours ago it suddenly became extremely agitated and exceptionally aggressive in its Holding Capsule for no apparent reason – technicians have examined the area and are certain no physical stimulus was present. When it broke out one hour later, it took eight Centurions point four hours to subdue it and the Hold Area has suffered considerable damage. The situation shows no sign of resolving itself.”

“An understatement, Proconsul,” a Consul said as the muted thuds continued to echo through the spacious chrome and steel dome of the Launch Bay.

Proconsul Marius winced.

A cylindrical containment pod had been drawn up from the floor of the Bay and its top sealed with titanium plating not commonly seen anywhere but on space-shuttle hulls and deep mining craft. The tube was bolted to the floor and six aediles were frantically scuttling around the clamps at the base, checking that they were closed and securely locked, like worker ants before the ever-watchful Queen. The warrior ants, for it pleased the Consuls to continue the metaphor, were the sixteen legionaries, lining the walls of the Launch Bay with their electric _pila_ primed and their stark scarlet insignias bright like blood against the sterile white structure. Inside the containment pod, the reason for all the anxious commotion, was the best of the Consuls’ six genetically enhanced Weapons.

“Clamps holding, force applied reaching sixty-eight percent,” an aedile called, entering the data on his wrist screen and flinching back as the Nightwing threw itself against the carbon-threaded glass again, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. “Eighty-three percent! Likelihood of damage to containment structure increasing to forty-seven percent!”

“Unacceptable,” snapped a Consul, and stalked forward to snatch a dataPAD from one of the hapless aediles. The Weapon’s diagnostics were displayed on the screen, live information constantly uploaded from the black bodysuit it was wearing and from the nanochip embedded behind its ear. All systems were in the critical stage, red digits flashing warningly as the Weapon flung itself at the glass again and again, clawing fruitlessly at its prison. It was fortunate that its fingers were too strong to bend and bleed from clawing at the glass, otherwise it would have shredded them entirely. The Consul frowned at the sight of the numbers representing the Weapon’s heart rate, respiration, neural relays, synaptic response, biochemical feedback and muscular stress climbing toward the threshold known as Terminal Magnitude.

“Do you know why this is unacceptable, proconsul?” a Consul asked frigidly, and passed his colleague the dataPAD and its disturbing information.

Marius swallowed, regretting his tenure as Proconsul of Warfare. “If the Terminal Magnitude Numbers are reached, the Weapon must be Launched out and away from the Hive in order to vent its power on the Hive’s behalf. Otherwise it will incur such internal damage as to self-destruct and render itself useless.”

He turned despairing eyes to the Nightwing, which was slamming its shoulder again and again into the containment pod, seemingly too lost in its malfunctioning rage to comprehend the fact that the pod was too small to gather proper momentum. Its pupils had contracted to pinpoint dots, and coupled with the way the feral, crazed snarl pulled Weapon B Zero One’s lips back from its sharp white teeth it was all too easy to remember why the Consulate had based the Weapon design on Ancient Terran scripture: this must surely have been how the early _Homo sapiens sapiens_ envisioned their demons. Its overall appearance, however, was human. The best predators were indistinguishable from their prey.

“Weapon B Zero One represents a significant portion of Hive resources, Proconsul. It must not be allowed to flatline.”

“Indeed. This Weapons program, designated Berserker, has received four point six trillion in funding along with the latest innovations available in technological, biological and neurological sciences. We must not lose such an important investment.”

“Yes, Consuls. I assure you, we are doing everything we can to minimise damage to both our facilities and to the Weapon.” Proconsul Marius wiped a surreptitious hand across his forehead as he turned to input data into the Hive library through a terminal next to him. The three other Proconsuls stepped out of the Materialiser and hurried over to Marius, dataPADs in hand, to receive an update of the situation.

“Are any of the other Weapons showing similar signs of unmanageable aggression? If Weapon B Zero Four, especially, broke out of its Hold in this state, restraining it could present a challenge.”

“No, Consul. They were agitated by proximity but B Zero One is the only one to react like this. We have run all the regulation checks and monitored its live-feed output, but we are no wiser in determining the cause of its malfunction.”

“This is ridiculous!” roared one of the scientists behind the Weapon’s engineering before the Consuls could reply, storming into the Launch Bay and jamming his ID viciously into the scanner when it began flashing at him. “Fetch his damned Handler, you useless pack of dead planet husks; that should have been the first thing you did!”

The Consuls turned swiftly to Marius, who had gone so pale that under the harsh halogen of the Launch Bay he looked bloodless. “Where is B Zero One’s Handler, Proconsul? Why was he not informed? Doctor Asclepius is quite correct: summoning him should have been your first priority when the Weapon began malfunctioning. Handlers were chosen and assigned specifically to keep the Weapons under control and tranquil when not deployed in the field.”

Marius wrung his hands wretchedly but it was Proconsul Lucius who answered.

“Nightwing’s Handler, Imperial Legate One Zero Four Seven Delta Kilo: allocation Wayne, Brutus, was terminated one point four hours ago by order of Senator Two Eight Three One Lima Charlie: allocation Luthor, Alexandros. It is my belief, Consuls, though as yet I have no empirical evidence, that Wayne’s termination triggered this reaction in Nightwing. Upon the decease of his Handler, with whom he is mentally bonded, Nightwing became unstable and exceedingly dangerous.”

“What charge was given?” The Consul demanded, bringing up the case on his own dataPAD.

“Conspiracy to muster troops without authority, Consul,” replied Lucius, who could not completely control the furious tremor of his hands and voice. “The trial should have been brought before you but Senator Luthor insisted on haste and did not wait for your Augural Council to conclude.”

The Consul touched his display and moved the accurate holographic representation of Imperial Legate One Zero Four Seven Delta Kilo: allocation Wayne, Brutus from his screen into the space beside him.

Nightwing slammed into the wall of his prison with renewed frenzy, screaming soundlessly behind the glass as he struggled to reach his Handler. The diagnostics on the dataPAD spiked dramatically once more, and the two Consuls shared a look.

“Magnitude Numbers will be reached in seventeen point two minutes! Self-destruction in thirty-three minutes, irreparable internal damage in twenty-seven minutes!” Doctor Asclepius barked out the numbers as he typed frantically at his dataPAD, and then tossed the device aside as he began injecting additional aerosol sedatives into the containment pod in the minuscule hope it would delay the inevitable.

“Reanimate One Zero Four Seven Delta Kilo,” the Consuls said.

“Re – reanimate?” stuttered Marius, dropping his dataPAD.

“Consuls, is that advisable?” Fonteius asked as Nightwing began to strike repeatedly at the wall of the pod. “Reanimation for a condemned man is highly irregular –”

“As was his conviction,” interjected Lucius. “Senator Luthor produced circumstantial evidence only and did not defer to our Consuls.”

The steady thud of punches filled the room as the aediles scurried away and out of the Launch Bay, clearly regarding the situation as untenable.

“B Zero One is the most advanced, versatile and strategically brilliant Weapon created, Proconsul. Its termination is not an option. Remove its Enhancement nanochip to postpone the approach of its T.M.N and send advance orders to the Morgue.”

“Remove his – Consul, the Enhancement Chip provides us with all our data on B Zero One!”

“Proconsul Fonteius, you test our patience. The chip is not our only method of monitoring the Weapon, and it emits signals which fuel its electrical impulses. Without it, Magnitude Numbers will not be reached for another thirty point two minutes, which provides adequate time for its Handler to be reanimated.”

“What about our control of the Weapon?”

“Its Handler was the primary method of control, Proconsul. The mere fact it is so affected by the hologram is heartening.”

Nightwing continued to strike out at his containment pod.

“Don’t be cowards, he won’t break the glass!” Asclepius snapped at his underlings as they skittered back.

The glass broke.

Immediately sirens began to blare and Asclepius started cursing as Nightwing focused all his strength upon the crack he had made.

“No more debate. The reanimation and download of the consciousness of Imperial Legate One Zero Four Seven Delta Kilo: allocation Wayne, Brutus shall proceed immediately.”

The Consuls’ orders were indisputable and the Hive leapt to their bidding.

“Yes Consul!” Lucius pounded his fist to his chest and turned to his dataPAD. Fonteius shouted orders to Doctor Asclepius, who in turn yelled at his underlings, and the Consuls swept imperiously out of the Launch Bay as Marius erased the hologram and summoned engineers to raise another pod around the cracked one.

* * *

The inanimate form of Imperial Legate One Zero Four Seven Delta Kilo: allocation Wayne, Brutus was laid out on a med-bed when the reanimation technician entered the morgue. The Consuls had ensured the process was marked as urgent, and the paperwork had consequently taken only seventeen minutes.

“Two cc of rehydration,” the technician said to his dataPAD, and the chemical was duly prepared. The serum was injected, after which twenty ccs of the Lazarus formula were added to the intravenous drip and a Sensosphere containing the complete consciousness of Imperial Legate One Zero Four Seven Delta Kilo: allocation Wayne, Brutus transmitted the data it contained in its entirety to the man’s prefrontal cortex. Four point three minutes later Brutus’ eyes flickered open.

The bond surged to completion once more –

_‘Luthor will use a poison to terminate me by inducing a myocardial infarction,’ Brutus whispered, forehead pressed to Nightwing’s as they lay for a few stolen moments entwined upon their bed. ‘It is subtle and quick; very much his style. Fortunately it will not impair the rest of my body and the Lazarus formula will restore my heart, but the bond will be silenced and all the monitoring systems that the Hive uses will cease. When that happens, you will have to distract the Consuls so Alfred can ready our shuttle.’_

_‘If you are dead, Brutus, there won’t be any need for theatrics. I’ll go mad with grief, I’ll tear the place apart. You must pull me out at the other end.’_

_A kiss, passionate, illicit, the only outlier in their completely regulated lives – an embrace, a caress. They were more than any bonded pair, more than Weapon and Handler, so much more, but at the same time they were just Brutus, just Rikard, a human name given to a superhuman Weapon who was terrified that that was the only thing he was would be will be is_

_‘They’ll have to remove your chip: they’ll think it will be the best way to postpone Magnitude Numbers. Once that happens and once the Sensosphere returns my consciousness to me, the scientists will lower their guard, the legionaries will be removed in case the smell of war affects you, and I will be sent in to calm you. We’ll run then, straight into the solar storm outside and over to the hangar. They’ll never catch us.’_

_‘Then I’ll be free,’ Rikard murmured, tracing his love onto Brutus’ skin as it flowed through their bond. ‘We’ll be free!’_

_Brutus held him close. ‘Yes, we’ll run to the furthest planet where they’ll never find us, past the dead suns and newborn stars, past the magnetic storms that will hide us from detection, just us together. We can till the asteroid fields if we have to but they’ll never take us back. They’ll never make you destroy whole cities and raze a planet to the ground again; they’ll never again make me lead an army to a battle with no winner and all the dead singing to the dying stars. We’ll be together, alone, safe, till the end of time.’_

_‘Till eternity and forever,’ whispered Rikard, curling into Brutus’ arms as their link fed him into Brutus into him into him into me him me we_

– and Nightwing gasped in a breath like his lungs would break and slumped down in his pod, a marionette at long last without its strings. Brutus filled his mind once more, hearts united and set on freedom.

 


End file.
